Ramblings from a not-so-normal SAHM

Hello again for the 1st time in ages! And, ironically, I’m writing this by hand in a notebook (my to-do book, actually) to be transcribed once I return home. Will it ever get to the computer? If you’re reading it, yes it did. If not, then you’re reading something else and this is just a waste of a page that could hold things like “go to Walmart,” “mail swaps,” and “don’t be intimidated by cricut.”

Regardless, here I sit writing to you, all my wonderful readers (all glorious 6 of you). I am, at this very moment, in gorgeous Colorado. It’s a place near Durango, Cortez and Dolores if you happen to know any of those places. If not, I’ll try to post a pic later.

I am in the trailer. It’s a quiet, beautiful place. Not that the cabin isn’t – it’s wonderful and a freaking fabulous place to be any time of year but right now the trailer is so quiet and peaceful…where as the cabin is filled to the brim with children (I’ll tell you about that in a minute) and they are playing video games and pinball and any and everything else that might make a loud noise or include jumping or screaming or playing of a ridiculous instrument…you with kids/nieces/nephews/neighbors with kids, etc, all know what I’m talking about. I have 3 kids and my SIL has 4 and a step son so that’s a LOT of kids making a LOT of noises. So I’m in the serenity of the trailer with my notebook, scrapbook mags, sharpie markers and the DVD player.

I’ve been watching the newest Bourne movie. Usually, I’m not a big fan of sequels because, well, 99.99% of the time they, by definition, suck. Think about it: Teen Wolf 2, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, Back to the Future 2, 28 weeks later…stink fests. However, if part of a trilogy that is usually not so. But as far as Jason Bourne and his movies – I’ll keep watching until he’s too old to lift the gun. I like the movies. I like the chases, the shootings, the drama, etc. Usually I’m not a Matt Damon fan, either, so it’s not about him. I just like the movies. So I watched, replayed the scenes where the cars and bullets were flying, and ate my razzles (is there a better food? I mean really? 1st it’s candy and then it’s gum!) I save the red and blue for last because Blaze’n Blueberry and Razzle Raspberry are the very best ones. WAY better than Tangerine Orange.

But sadly, it ended and I’m not watching Little Miss Sunshine. I’m not sure about it yet. I’m thinking maybe a nap would be better.

Later that day…

I’ve been in the loud place (aka cabin) where I enjoyed a delicious lunch of 3 raviolies and a Little Debbie oatmeal cookie. Now I’m back to the movie and munching on my MIL’s terribly fabulous peanut clusters. Yuuuuummy. Everyone is getting ready to go out. I’m not. I’m staying here. I’d like a bath but chances are I will not get one. I will probably get a shower and/or a nap. I’m leaning toward nap.

Anyway – I think this is going to be it for now. I have a movie to finish and food to munch and a soda to swallow all before I can crash. It’s been a stressful week. More on that later, though.

Let me again apologize for the lack of posting. I haven’t felt like doing much of anything but sleeping and laying down, watching TV for the past week and a half. Even right now I’m not feeling too much like talking but I feel that you guys who aren’t in daily contact with me (which would be all of you but my mom and husband) would like to know what’s going on.

I had the surgery (duh?). It took about an hour and I was crazy-groggy but that didn’t stop me from getting on the phone and ringing my friend, June. I’m not sure what I said but I’m sure it gave her a good giggle. But she was able to pass the message on to several of my online pals that I had made it through to chat another day. The hospital stay was bumpy to say the least – I hope I never run into any of those nurses in the “real world” or I’ll be 30 shades of scarlet. And I may never be able to look Dr. Driskill in the eye again after he was the doc on call in the middle of my first post-op night and I, in a 2 AM morphine-haze, demanded he be called AT ONCE to get me some Xanax or send me home. I’m so ashamed. I can’t believe I’m still married.

Anyway – we got home Saturday (the 6th) and I slept until Tuesday when I got out of bed for the first time, I think. We had a list of WONDERFUL friends who brought us dinner that whole week up until tonight (THANK YOU!) and checked in with us to make sure we had everything we needed. It was so nice to feel the love!

Yesterday I finally started to feel a little better, lowering my pain meds and moving around. I’ve gotten to where I can get up earlier in the morning (an early-EARLY-for-me-8-AM this morning) and not have to take a nap, although I get a sinker mid-day. I’ve weaned completely off sodas and haven’t had anything but water or milk (with a 2 soda slip from which I quickly learned my lesson) since getting home. I feel good. I might even try a more-than-2-minute-shower tomorrow! But I don’t want to push it…

We only had one issue since we got home with a little infection-ish thing (nothing too ewey) but the doc said it wasn’t a big deal and sent me home with a bandaid so I think we’re doing good! I see the doc on Thursday for my 2 week visit to see about lifting some of my restrictions (esp. the “can’t drive” one). Hopefully we won’t have anymore set backs and we’ll only see good things from this. Chris (Dr. D) did say that it could take up to 3 months for my iron to fully “recover” so I’m hoping that’s not the case here but even so, it’s better than never, right?

So that’s that. If you have a question, ask. I’ll be back soon – I have all kinds of things to talk about (like, did I mention my brother and Hollie are HAVING ANOTHER BABY!?!?!? WHOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!). Just hang with us a little bit longer…I’m trying to do more with the kids and that takes priority, of course, but it might also lead to more pictures for you guys 😉

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a while. Life’s kinda gotten in the way. So here’s a pic of my gorgeous girl on her first day of preschool a couple weeks back to tide you over until I have some time (which I hope is this weekend).

After re-reading my last entry I realized that I didn’t mention anything about my dad’s family.

My dad is one of 8 kids. (I’ll take this opportunity to shout out to all my aunts & uncles – who don’t read this blog but that’s beside the point – David, Anne, Ellen, Peggy, John, Mark and Matthew – and all the kids that go with them – a list way too long to try to remember and I don’t want to leave anyone out so I’m not naming names). Anyway…back to the point. Of those 8, 5 are adopted. I think that’s amazing.

I never really “knew” my grandmother. I have one outrageously amazing Granny and I never felt like I was missing out on not having a relationship with the “other grandmother.” In fact, I didn’t really like her. Don’t get me wrong – I loved her because she was family and she adored me. But as a person, I didn’t really “like” her.

I should have. She opened her home to kids who didn’t have families. She took them in and she loved them all equally. She must have been a great mom because my dad is a GREAT person. In all the stories I’ve heard about her there’s never been one about how she beat one of them or berated one or even yelled at them. I don’t think I ever heard her raise her voice. Maybe she was just too tired…there’s days I can’t cope with one more whine, much less 5 more kids full of whines.

On the day I was born, she was waiting by the phone for the call about my arrival. Instead, she was called by her dear friend. There was a baby who had no home. On the day she was waiting for her 3rd grandchild to be born, she adopted her 8th and last son, Matthew. He’s a day older than I am. Can you imagine having a baby the same age as your 3rd grandbaby?? She did it.

My grandmother passed away a couple of years ago. I will never have the opportunity to know her like I now wish I did. I will never hear her stories. I will never receive her wisdom. And that’s sad.

But I’m so lucky, still. My Granny is one of my best friends. If there’s anyone in this world who understands the feelings I’ve gone through on my journey through trying to get pregnant all the way to where I am now, acknowledging that I will never again feel a baby move inside me – it’s Granny. She went through it all before me. The only time I’ve ever seen her cry is when she talks about not having more kids. She still cries about that. Maybe I will at her age – I don’t know – but I know that if I do, it will be a comfort to me to know that I’m not the only one who’s ever felt that way. I can talk to her about things that I don’t always feel comfortable talking about with my mom (who’s also my best friend). I can talk to her about things others don’t understand because they haven’t been through them. But she has. She’s been through more than I can ever imagine – but the point is, she made it through them. And she made it through to become an awesome person. She’s one of the two most amazing women I know. And I’m so blessed to have her. My life certainly would have suffered without her hand in it. And now she shares herself with my children. They adore her as much as I do. They cry out for her when they’re sad. They want to call her when they’re excited. We all love her and are better for knowing her.

I wonder how the rest of the women in this world get through the days without her. Because I’m not sure I ever could have.

Now I’m crying (and I don’t cry). So I should go before the sappy gets any thicker. Thanks for reading.

A lot of thought has gone into this surgery that I’m having (the date is Oct 4 for those who didn’t know). At first, I was at odds with it: I knew I needed it for health reasons but I wasn’t ready to face the fact that I wouldn’t have anymore children. I mean, Gary’s been fixed and I was fine with that but there has always been that tiny (1 in a million – but that’s still a chance, right?) possibility that we could have another one.

But here’s what I know: I know I hate (vehemently) being pregnant. I’m not, in general, a happy-go-lucky kinda gal. I am actually quite the bitch (Dolores Claiborne said it best: Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman’s got to hold on to). So add hormones and being constantly hungry to that and you have a me that NO ONE wants to be around. And I mean NO ONE. Even my doctor hated me. I also know that having Cordi took me out of remission and it took 3 years to get my health back under control and I am certain the hormones resulting from that pregnancy shaved years and years off my life (but she is SO worth it). I know I have 3 beautiful children and there are so many women who would give everything they have for just one. I know I’m blessed. I know I’m loved and I know my life is full.

But it is more than that. What I’m going to say now shouldn’t offend anyone – I don’t mean it as a judgement on those who have huge families or more than 3 kids. This is simply how I feel about MY situation.

I feel like if Gary and I were to make another child it would be selfish. There are WAY too many children out there without homes. Without loving parents. Without anything. I wouldn’t feel right putting another child out there when we could take one of these kids into our hearts and home. And that child would be just as much mine and just as loved as my birth-given children. Having another child myself would both take away that potential child’s would-be future and could very well end up taking my life. And who am I to let my own desires take me away from my children and husband? How guilty would Gary feel for getting me pregnant when we both knew the risks? I simply cannot do that.

And that’s why this surgery is a good thing. It’s a happy thing. And it will be 2 less things I ever have to worry about again 🙂

I knew it was coming. I knew it would happen eventually. I just didn’t think it would be so soon!

That’s right…my boys are being approached to become boyfriends.

Bergen got a note from a girl that included her address and phone number. She wants him to call her.

But it’s not just any girl.

This is the girl who’s daddy screamed sexual harrassment 2 years ago after Peter told someone he saw her panties when she was on the monkey bars. Keep in mind – they were in kindergarten AND she was wearing a mini skirt.

This is the girl who last year had to be separated from Bergen during recess because she wouldn’t quit kissing on him (which he did NOT enjoy).

So what does this mean for me? It means I have to go up to the school this afternoon and have yet another talk with the teacher. My only real concern here is a what if. What if Bergen rejects this girl and she tells her daddy that he did something to her? Her daddy is a big man. And I really was hoping to save my TV debut for a reality show that’s NOT Cops.

The boys went anxiously to school today. Cordi’s sitting on the floor eating crackers. The silence is beautiful.

I’m a little sad that my little guys started the 2nd grade today. It seems like it was only yesterday that they were in NICU or rolling across the floor to get everywhere. There were so many days that seemed to last forever and yet they went so quickly. I feel like I just blinked and they were starting school and now they can read and write and are excited to go learn more. It’s a bit heart breaking. And Cordi is right behind them. She’ll start before I can catch my breath…

Here’s some pics I took today and recently. Don’t forget to click the pics to see the full-sized picture.